


The Suggestion of Things Not Seen

by BlossomsintheMist



Series: Steve/Tony Kinktober 2017 [6]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cologne, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Sexual Content, Insecure Tony, Insecurity, Lingerie, M/M, Panties, Panty Kink, Penis Size, Praise, Sexual Content, Suit Porn, Suits, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 19:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12349119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: “You said dress up,” Tony said, softly.  “And I thought—the committee is going to be fucking awful, so … so why not have a little fun after, just the two of us?  I wanted to do something I thought you would like.”Written for Day Nine of Kinktober: Lingerie.





	The Suggestion of Things Not Seen

**Author's Note:**

> “…lace is formed from the absence of substance; it is imagined in the spaces between the threads. Lace is a thing like hope. It lived, it survived, and it was desired for what it was not. If faith, as the nuns said, was the substance of things hoped for, then lace was the outline - the suggestion - of things not seen.”  
> ― Iris Anthony, The Ruins of Lace

“Oh,” Steve said, as his fingers skimmed down over Tony’s hip, under the waistband of his open slacks, and brushed along the top of the lace panties he was wearing.  He rubbed the tips of them along the lace. “That’s—Tony, that’s—”

“You said you wanted me to dress up for you today,” Tony murmured teasingly.  “That’s what you meant, right?”  He let his hands drift down, settle over Steve’s and squeeze lightly. Steve had liked the panties in the past, particularly the lace, but Tony still felt a thud of nervousness in his chest, heart beating quick and almost painful against his ribs.  “Been wearing ‘em all day, just for you.”

“This is so much better,” Steve said, low and hot against Tony’s skin, “then dressing up for some stuffy suits from Congress. I just wanted you to be all fancy and flashy and distract ‘em like you do.  I had no idea.”  His fingers smoothed over the soft silk lace, played with the tiny bow at the front, and Tony moaned a little as his fingertips brushed the base of his cock, where he’d tucked his cock neatly down between his legs to keep it contained in the panties and make sure they lay flat, bit his lip and tried to suck his saliva back behind his lips.  “You should have told me,” he practically moaned, kissing wet, shivery kisses down along Tony’s neck.  “I would have thought about it all day long.”

“And how would we explain the massive bulge in your pants then?” Tony asked, grinning to himself, feeling warm all over at Steve’s obvious arousal, the hard-on hot and very, very obvious where it was bumping up against his ass through his slacks, despite being still mostly constrained by Steve’s suit trousers.  “Say there’s a gun in your pocket?” 

Steve snorted a laugh against Tony’s skin.  “Okay,” he said, “You’ve got me there.”  His fingers slid down a little more, played at Tony’s cock through the soft lace, and got him shivering, breathing out hard through his nose and sliding a hand back to grip at Steve’s hip just out of instinct to grab hold, steady himself. “The stuff you wear is always so soft,” he said, sounding awed, even amazed, and hell, he probably was; Steve hadn’t exactly grown up with high-end fabrics, and most modern clothes were nothing much in that department, either.  It gave Tony a little bit of a pang to think that Steve, who experienced physical pleasure so keenly, even down to the slide of a soft fabric over his body, might have gone through his whole life up until now without knowing the simple sensual pleasure of fine cotton or silk against his skin if not for Tony’s insistence on spoiling him occasionally and not even known the difference.

“That’s what happens with fine silk lace, sugar,” Tony said, twisting around in Steve’s arms, heedless of his open slacks and the belt just hanging loosely by the loops in the sagging waistband to press their lips together, sliding his hands up into Steve’s hair.  “It’s soft,” he breathed into his mouth, then pressed a kiss there, biting Steve’s bottom lip gently and sucking at it until he was groaning before he swept his tongue into his mouth.  Steve moaned, pressed into Tony’s kiss, his hands falling to cup at Tony’s ass, squeeze at it through the fabric of his slacks.

The kiss was hot and wet and wonderful, and when Tony pulled away they were both gasping.  “Oh, God, big boy,” Tony gasped as he pulled away, “if I’d known you were watching and, and thinking about it, we’d both have had to explain away an awkward bulge or two,” and was rewarded by Steve’s flush, his smile, at that.

“Yeah?” he asked, almost shyly.

“Yeah,” Tony said, with a little disbelieving laugh escaping him.  “You know how much of a turn-on it is that you like seeing me in these? Like, like this?”  He put his hands on his belt, pulled it out of the loops and tossed it onto the chair beside the bed, then slid his slacks down just a little more, so that Steve could see the full effect of the lace panties he was wearing.

They were a soft deep red, almost a maroon color, transparent through the pattern of the lace over his hips and dick, heavily embroidered.  He saw the way Steve’s throat bobbed, his tongue coming out and sliding over his bottom lip, and grinned, even as he stepped out of the shoes he’d already loosened, slid his pants down his legs, and stood there in his stocking feet and his shirt, his tie loose around his neck.  Steve was still fully dressed, and he looked almost painfully hard in his slacks.  Steve’s hand moved down to it that bulge, and he sucked in his breath, palming it and breathing heavily, like it almost hurt to touch it.

“Hey now, none of that,” Tony murmured, leaving off where he was unbuttoning his shirt and going to his knees in front of Steve.  “Come on, honeymuffin, give your dick a little relief before you hurt yourself.” He smiled up at him, reached up to open Steve’s belt, gently pushing his hand away, undid Steve’s fly and reached in to slide his fingers under the hot, heavy bulge of Steve’s dick in his white y-fronts, because of course that was what he was wearing under his suit. Steve sucked in his breath, and his fists clenched, unclenched, at his sides, a stuttering little groan sliding out of him as Tony touched him.

“It’s not like it actually _hurts_ ,” Steve said, in a sort of tight, clenched, groaning voice with breath in it that was completely unconvincing.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel good,” Tony said, smiling, “and I want you to feel good, peaches.”  He leaned in, pressed a kiss to the front of that hot, tightly bound package, so thick and needy and straining under his lips, so _warm_ even through the cotton, and Steve groaned, helplessly.  Tony opened his mouth, fastened it, wet, against the front, and sucked, let himself slobber a little, sucking and laving with his tongue until his mouth was dry and tasted like Steve and his body and cotton and felt like lint, and he could smell the musky-sweet-clean _want_ baking off Steve through his briefs.  When he pulled back they clung wetly to Steve’s dick, and Steve was groaning, shivering like he was in the middle of a wet January day without a coat on. Tony smiled, let his fingers trail over the underside of Steve’s dick again, and gripped Steve’s hip with one hand. “Hand on my shoulder, sunshine,” he muttered, and Steve obeyed, instantly, as if in a daze.  Tony coaxed his foot up, pulled it onto his own upper thigh, and set about undoing Steve’s shoelaces.

“Oh, God, Tony,” Steve said, sounding pained.  When Tony looked up his other hand was bunched around the waistband of his suit, his belt, holding his pants up to his waist.  “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Tony told him, softly, then smiled as he slipped off Steve’s shoe, moved onto the other foot.  “You never have fantasies about me like this?  Dressed up in lingerie, undressing you, bringing you a cigar and a whiskey as you get ready for bed—”

Steve choked, turned a little redder.  “Um,” he said.  “Well, not that last part.  Not that you wouldn’t make a very handsome, uh—”

“Sex kitten?  Housewife?” Tony said, and winked.  “I know.  I can even cook, when I put my mind to it.”  He set Steve’s shoes aside, then took the hands Steve offered him and pulled himself to his feet, leaning in to give Steve a soft kiss on the lips.  “Now finish getting undressed and come to bed, pookie.”

Steve laughed, even though it was hoarse and rough and sex-thick, even as Tony started undoing his tie for him.

“Now that’s something I never pictured,” he said, even as he let his pants fall and stepped out of them.  He reached up with one hand and ran his hand over Tony’s lips, the side of his mouth, making them feel hot and tingling, wet.  “I just know you look damn gorgeous like that, all bound up in beautiful lace.”

“Aw, thanks, stud,” Tony murmured, and hoped he was getting away without the flush he could feel on his cheeks showing on his face.  He pressed a kiss to Steve’s thumb, then pulled off his tie, undid the buttons of his waistcoat, then leaned down and picked up Steve’s pants, mostly to give Steve a good view of his ass in his panties, and draped Steve’s suit trousers over the back of the chair, laying his belt on top of them.

“I mean it,” Steve said, and a moment later his arms were around Tony from behind again, encircling him, warm and strong around his waist, through the shirt that Tony was still trying to unbutton.  “You’re so—so beautiful anyway, and the lace just draws attention to it.”

“What do you mean,” Tony muttered, suddenly feeling self-conscious, hyper-aware of himself, looking down, concentrating on undoing his buttons.  “Cock’s a little on the small side compared to some people’s, last time I checked.”  His cock was a little on the small side generally.  Not so you noticed, really; he’d seen plenty of men naked and he thought he had a good grasp on comparative sizes, but not, well, you know, huge.  It was on the slim side, and Steve could almost hold the whole thing in his big hand.  Ty had used to tease him about it, that he wasn’t packing a lot of heat, but—but Steve never had, Tony reminded himself.

“You know I don’t care about that, Tony,” Steve said, and yeah, Tony knew that, could feel the embarrassed flush baking off Steve now that Tony had brought up the size of the banana _he_ was keeping in those adorable tighty-whities.  Steve always blushed, got so embarrassed, when anyone brought up the size of his package. One of Steve’s hands came down, cupped him through the silky lace and stroked, and Tony just—groaned, pushed back into Steve’s arms and let his eyes flutter and close, just for a moment. Steve’s hand was so warm.  “You’ve got such a pretty cock,” Steve said, stroking just under the head with his thumb until Tony was writhing in his hips, pressing against him, couldn’t help it.  “It’s so perfectly proportioned, it fits so good in my hand,” his thumb rubbed just under the head, “it’s got such a sweet, sensitive head—look at you, see?” he added, as Tony gasped, whimpered and choked and pushed up into that perfect, teasing bit of friction, rubbing the soft lace against the most sensitive place on his cock.  “That’s so pretty, Tony, that’s gorgeous, why wouldn’t I think your cock was beautiful?”

“Because—because you’re a size queen?” Tony managed to gasp out, chest heaving, after a moment, and Steve laughed, squeezed his dick gently.

“Okay, a little bit,” he allowed.  “But it’s not like you’ve ever not satisfied me, Stark.”

“Well,” Tony mumbled, but he let himself be mollified by that.  If Steve was satisfied, he was doing okay.  His dick was doing okay.  Because Steve liked to be fucked more than any other man Tony had ever met, and he loved big cock, but if he was okay with Tony’s—well, Tony had technique to make up for it at least, right?

“This lace is so soft,” Steve breathed in a tone of wonder, still stroking his hand over Tony’s dick, making him gasp and shiver with pleasure, nuzzling into the soft, sensitive place behind Tony’s ear.  “And you smell good.  Mmm.  I love that cologne you wear.”

“Do you?” Tony asked, and smiled, even through rolling his hips helplessly into Steve’s hand.  That gave him some ideas, both of the romantic and the sexual variety.

“I really do,” Steve gasped. “You smell so good.  I love the way you smell.”  His fingers lost their rhythm a little bit, just palming Tony’s dick between his legs now, squeezing at him, lifting him up a little bit and letting him fall back between his legs, the lace just stretchy enough to let his dick swing just a bit, while still keeping it cupped tight against his groin.

“That’s very flattering, _mio caro_ , thank you,” Tony said, trying to keep it light, even though he really did mean it, it was, and slid his hand back, tugged at the bottom of Steve’s waistcoat.  “Now get out of the rest of this suit and fuck me, won’t you?”

Steve made a sputtering little noise of a laugh at that.  “Okay, okay,” he said.  “Your wish is my command, Shellhead.”

“Since when?” Tony asked, laughing.  He could breathe again, as Steve’s hand slid away from between his legs, and he turned around, shrugging out of his own shirt and circling around the bed to drape it over a chair, laying his tie over it, while he watched Steve divest himself of his own clothing.  Some men, realizing he was watching, might have slowed down, turned it into a show. Not Steve Rogers.  He just blushed, deeply, and sped up, like he was stripping down in front of his old C.O.  Tony smiled, fondly, and opened the drawer he’d stashed some supplies in before they’d left for the capitol that morning.  He tossed the lube onto the bed, but quickly unfolded the soft embroidered, lacey silk of the babydoll that matched the panties, and then shrugged it on over his shoulders, letting the lace settle around him.  When Steve looked up again, he was tying the bow of the open front babydoll.  He could feel it resting on his hips, an unfamiliar soft, whispery weight.  “So, pumpkin?” Tony said, and tried not to sound nervous.  “How do I look?”

Steve’s eyes had gone totally blown, and his mouth was hanging open before he shut it, very obviously, and swallowed.  “Oh, wow,” he said, his own underpants still halfway down his thighs, his hand stopping tangled in them, pulling them out from his thigh.  It revealed his own dick, huge and flushed and gorgeous as ever, leaking copious precome all over the head, wet and sticky already, because Steve always leaked so beautifully, God.  “Tony, that’s—”

“You said dress up,” Tony said, softly.  “And I thought—the committee is going to be fucking awful, so … so why not have a little fun after, just the two of us?  I wanted to do something I thought you would like.”

Steve’s face softened, inexpressibly.  “Tony,” he said.  “That’s so—that’s so thoughtful.  I—I—thank you.” 

Only Steve Rogers, Tony thought, would manage to sound so impossibly, perfectly, earnestly sincere, standing in the middle of a luxurious penthouse suite in D.C.’s most expensive luxury hotel with his briefs around his thighs and his desperately hard cock bobbing against his stomach, bright red and wet with need.  A warm prickling wave of—of feeling, and desire, and affection, and need, swept over Tony, from his toes up his legs over his thighs, throbbing in his dick, prickling over his chest and hot in his face.  “So what do you want, cupcake?” he asked, and it came out low, low and soft and hoarse.  “I know I said for you to fuck me, but you can have anything, whatever you want.”

Steve stepped out of his briefs, picked them up and tossed them onto the chair, then stepped forward. Tony shifted to meet him, watching as Steve bit his lip, fingered the bottom edge of the silk, then moved his hand down, rested it against Tony’s hip.  His hand felt so warm, so steady and strong.

“How about we start with a kiss?” Steve murmured, soft and just the tiniest bit hesitant, his other hand moving up to curve around Tony’s jaw, and Tony smiled, smiled and felt his tension leave him, somehow, the nervousness about Steve thinking he’d gone too far with the lingerie thing, even the ache in his head and the tension in his neck from dealing with one two many politicians and seeing them swirl around Steve like a bunch of sharks, all wanting a piece of him, all of it, because saying that, just wanting a kiss to start with, it was just so Steve, and his hand felt so warm and careful and wonderful on Tony’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Tony murmured, “yeah, sunshine, we can start with that,” and moved into his arms.


End file.
